A Helping Hand
by HasFar2Go
Summary: Ariadne fails an exam, Cobb helps tutor her.  "There are no fireworks or choirs of angels  because the former is a fire hazard and the latter would quickly put an end to things , but yes, there is a reason Dominic Cobb struts the way he does."


**Warnings**: No real spoilers for the film, language, and (duh) sex.  
**Summary:** Ariadne fails an exam, Cobb helps tutor her. Smut ensues. For the inception_kink prompts:

-girl-on-top. Ariadne is very commanding. Cobb is pleasantly surprised, to say the least.

-Ariadne/Cobb - She fails one of her University exams. He offers to tutor her while he's in town. SEXY!TIEMS MAY ENSUE, up to you, anon.  
**Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me, or it would have probable just ended up being two hours of Ariadne and Cobb having sex.

* * *

"What wrong?" he demands to know, as soon as she opens the door. His blue eyes are wide and (she notices and tries not to) amazing blue, concern obvious.

"You didn't have to come," Ariadne repeats, just as she did on the phone. "I'm just...I'm just having a little bit of a meltdown."

"Bullshit." Cobb moves past her into her apartment, eying it carefully, as if he'd come expecting her to be tied up in a chair or being tortured and the person responsible would jump out an moment. "Miles said you needed me."

Ariadne wipes her hair out of her face, leans against the closed door, and watches Cobb watching her. "Miles was the first person I saw afterward. Seriously, I'm better now. I have a friend in the law and justice program and they said they're going to-"

"Ariadne." Damn it, it's the way he says her name, and the way he looks at her – like some sort of Sodium Pentothal.

"I failed," she says, and crumbles, hiding her face from him. There's the dull thud of his suitcase hitting on the floor, and then he's got his arms around her. "I failed my exam, and I – I mean, I don't fail _anything_. That's not me and..." she breaks off, and lets out a choked sob.

It's been a shitty two days, really. She's been out of sorts and out of touch. Ariadne has always had that rosy cheeked, Nancy Drew, 'can do' attitude; she's known for it. She always succeeds – has since she realized at the tender age of ten that knowledge was power, and she could get out of her shitty home and live far, far away from OTR if she studied hard and was _perfect_, always, totally perfect. It's been going just fine, as far as life plans go, until now.

He holds her close, lets her cry, and then says "Everybody has at least one bad grade, Ariadne."

She snorts, a really unattractive sound because everything above the shoulders is soggy with tears and snot. "Is this the part where you tell me about the one time you ever got a B on something? Because it's not going to help the situation right now. I _failed an exam_."

She feels him sigh, and run a soothing hand over her back.

"And I barely graduated."

Ariadne is shaken out of her self-pity. _"What?" _

Cobb looks downright amused. "Why do you think I was attracted to Dream Share technology in the first place? I was a horrible student. Miles was so frustrated with me, he that thought if I could see for myself, then maybe I would realize why my buildings had no structural stability."

She peers at the man next to her, and tries to fit this new piece of information into her understanding of him. "This...this is surprising."

"So needless to say, when I finally got my shit together, I ingrained all of that into my head. Shaped up, and graduated only a semester late. So when Miles told me about your problem, he figured I might be able to help."

She glaces over her shoulder at the suitcase.

"Don't," he says sharply. "I was returning from Dublin, this was on my way." She gives him a chastising look and he huffs. "Alright, so it wasn't, but Miles called and said you might need a tutor, and this was clearly important...so..." he trails off, eyes casting about the small apartment. His eyes fell on the bookshelf. "Okay, so what are we studying?"

He comes over for three nights in a row – and yes, a few of her less thick-minded friends have caught on to the fact that she's been perpetually too busy, but in all honesty, she enjoys Cobb's company. She's starting to feel like she has a grasp of the material, and a better understanding of the Extractor. He's been doing legitimate work and he's happy, and things are almost normal for him.

Yes, she's completely aware of how attracted she is to him, but she's trying awfully hard not to allow that train of thought to continue while they're hunched over books together, or sharing a meal. Or he's sprawled out on her sofa and she's pacing the room, answering the questions he throws out at her. He's relentless, but she's dedicated, so they're getting somewhere with the studying. Or he walks her to class, handing her a coffee as they meet outside her apartment, and walk to the Uni together (because he's had 'things to discuss with Miles' for four days straight, now). Or even, God help her, when he calls his children to check in on them – there is something about how completely he loves them that's incredible.

So later on the fourth day, she gets an exam back from her Laws and Ordinances class and lo and behold, she's done more than pass, she's got one of the top grades in the class. That night, Cobb ('How many times, Ariadne? Call me Dom') brings take out from her favorite place, and they celebrate by _not_ studying.

"I'm never going to be able to thank you enough," she says later, as they're watching TV. He is sitting with his back against the couch, and she's laying on her stomach, head close to his. He turns enough to make eye contact.

"Thank me? You're the one taking the test. You're probably one of the smartest people that I know, you just needed a little help."

The compliment causes her to flush and she shakes her head. "But you were in Ireland, Cobb. Don't lie to me and tell me that Paris is on the way to the U.S.. I'm just trying to say that I appreciate the trouble you went through for me."

It's his turn to shake his head. He rests his head against the edge of the cushion, and seems to watch her for a moment before speaking. "Ireland or elsewhere, I would have dropped what I was doing for you. I always will. You must know that," he murmurs, and strokes her hair. "I – you're important to me, Ariadne. I care about you...and I don't mean that in the way I do for Arthur or Miles, or the kids."

This is why she left her last vacation in California early, why the holidays - when the Cobbs were in France - were a time she kept mostly to herself. She was a little afraid of letting him know just how much she cared about him, as well.

She could settle on the couch and they could watch whatever is on TV, and he'd leave in the morning for the States. They'd talk on the phone, and this week would be something they laugh about in years to come. Or...

Fuck it, she's tired of this.

When she kisses him, his hand seems to be instantly at the back of her head, pulling her closer to him. She leans precariously over the side to meet his lips with more force, just as he tips his head back and sinks back into the cushion as much as the furniture will allow. His tongue is slick and when he runs it along the roof of her mouth, it's glorious.

She'd been rather good at physics, so she really ought to have seen the errors in the their positions beforehand. Ariadne suddenly finds her self slipping off the couch and onto the floor.

"Shit," he says, and even as she is still shocked by her sudden spot on the rug, she's pleased to hear how ragged his voice is (and concerned for obvious reasons). "Ariadne, are you-"

"Kiss me," she demands, pulling him closer by his shirt collar. She likes to see him in business clothes. He doesn't wear them the same way Arthur does; she's never wanted to take Arthur's suits off – they're almost an extension of his body. Dom's both shroud and highlight his (ridiculously attractive) physique, and he's one of those guys who suddenly just exudes confidence, and goddam it, if it takes a blue pinstripe for him to walk like that, then she was willing to donate enough suits to last him a month.

He complies, and while he does, he covers her body with his, supporting himself on one forearm, the other trailing up the side of her shirt.

There's pushing and pulling – there always is when they are together, it's how they show they care for one another, and it's normally with words or actions to help the other even when they can't see that it's right – and then Ariadne is laying there, naked, and yes she recognizes that he's still mostly clothed, but when she goes to protest this, to sit up and help him out of those things, he puts a large, surprisingly gentle palm on her abdomen, and she stills.

"Dom," she practically whines, but he kisses her. Her attempts to divest him, or at least slip her fingers around the fly of his pants are thwarted. Ariadne growls, and he laughs, but kisses her. "Take it off."

He catches her hand and slips his fingers in between hers as he swoops in for another kiss. "Stop, Ariadne."

"You're impeding tonight's activities, Dom."

"Maybe I'm just," he pauses, and while he's kissing her, his hand returns to her abdomen, but then leaves a trail of lingering heat when it slips lower down, "trying to prolong them."

Counterproductive to the mood, she sits up and eyes him, seriously. He averts his eyes, sighing. "It's been a while, Ariadne."

Slowly, she nods, realizing. Then she lets her head rest against the floor again. "In that case, carry on."

They both laugh a little awkwardly, try to find their momentum again. It doesn't take long, not with the careful strokes Dom gives her body, with long, confident fingers. Finally – rejoice! - his hands return to the apex of her thighs.

He leaves them there for too long, and she kisses him a little more firmly before demanding "Dom, _touch_ me."

He chuckles against her neck. "Yes, ma'am." He lets his finger flick at her clit, just a little, and then lets it progress lower. "Shit, you're wet," he whispers, hoarsely.

That's probably one of hottest things she's ever heard.

While Dom slips a finger inside, he watches her reaction. She closes her eyes, and lets out a trembling breath as he starts to move the digit, slowly. After a few strokes, it's followed by a second finger, and the sensation is a little more satisfying.

He's too damn slow, too thrifty with the occasional brush at her clit with his thumb. She grabs his hand and begs him to move "faster."

The rhythm increases, the tightness inside her starting to build, slowly at first. Ariadne takes unsteady gasps when she remembers to. When she opens her eyes, she looks up into his eyes, which are heavy-lidded, and darker than she's ever seen. That thought alone sends a jolt through her, and her whole form quivers.

"Oh God," she moans, and Dom leans forward, kissing her open mouth, sucking on her bottom lip as he starts to pull away his mouth and his fingers.

The tight feeling, low in her gut, seems to be coiling, tensing, like she's about to go over the top of a roller coaster. She wants to tell him to touch her clit, just _touch it_, because she knows she's so fucking close she could cry and he's slowing down and she's going to scream and she wants him, all of him, inside of her now. She wants to see what he looks like, what his expression is, coming in her. She's always been curious but now she's in need of it. She can barely think straight, but she knows that much.

"Dom," she chokes out, reaching with trembling hands for him. "_Please_. I want-need, oh _yes_," she sighs, when she realizes he's moving to unzip his pants. Enthusiastically, she helps him slip them off, grips at his shirt with claw-like fingers and helps to pull it off. The second it is off, he's crawls back over her, kissing her soundly before drawing back and giving her _that_ look.

He tentatively starts to ask "Are you-"

"Shut. Up." Ariadne reaches between them, and when her hand wraps around his cock, he hisses. For a second, she panics, afraid she's come off as being too forceful.

A look up into his eyes clears that issue up; Dom is staring down at her, the hint of a smirk on his face, eyes dark with desire.

He grabs her thigh, hitches it around his waist, and then twists them. Ariadne slaps a hands onto the floor by Dom's shoulder in an attempt to maintain balance. "What the hell?"

She can't help but trail off when she looks down at the man below her, sees the muscular chest, the way he's watching her.

There's an instant when she analyzes this action, on his part, this giving up of control, this yielding and what it means. But then she's caught on rather quickly. After one last searing kiss, she sits up, shifts, takes a hold of him, and sinks down onto his erection. He's thick. He fills her. She may even let her head tip back, just a little, not only because of how he feels, but because the expression on Dom's face is too fucking much. There are no fireworks or choirs of angels (because the former is a fire hazard and the latter would quickly put an end to things), but _yes_, there is a reason Dominic Cobb struts the way he does.

"Jesus," he breathes below her. Ariadne slowly brings her head back up, and then forward a little. Dom's head is tilted back, and it's allowing her quite the view of his throat. When she starts to move, experimentally, she watches him swallow heavily, almost entranced by the way his adam's apple bobs with the action. She leans forward and licks a line up that flesh, and he lets out a shuddering breath before grabbing at her hips.

Her own movements, combined with the way he's trying to meet them with his own, is maddening. She sits back up, and tries to establish some sort of rhythm, but then settles for whatever the hell she can manage because she's desperately close, and she's developing some sort of tunnel vision, and while she's never, ever been on top, or had sex on her _living room floor_, she can't believe the idea hadn't played out in any of her fantasies before.

When she slows down, almost stopping, Dom _whines. _His hips press up, off of the floor. "Christ," he utters. "Ariadne, don't. Killing me."

She puts her hands on his chest, and tipping forward like that allows her to grind her clit against him while they move. She bucks against him a few more times, and then suddenly she comes apart, quaking and gasping out his name and her hips are jerking and when it's over, she falls forward, and onto him.

After a moment, once she's caught her breath, and her heart is starting to slow its frenzied beating, she sits up. A bead of sweat is dripping down the side of Dom's neck, his jaw is clenched.

She knows him well enough to know he's not going to say anything. Ariadne sits up fully, and starts to ride him again. She's still intensely sensitive, but nowhere close to a second orgasm; this is what Dom needs.

His fingers grasp at her hips, almost bruising, and when he comes, his eyes are scrunched shut but his mouth is open, as if in awe. He whispers her name, like a mantra, afterward.

She's not sure how long they actually spend on the floor, with her sprawled on him, their hearts beating erratically in their touching chests. She's only aware of the fact that the morning is going to come far too soon, and his evening flight the next day as well.

At some point, they help one another up and into the shower, and then huddle together in her small bed. When she wakes (early, she's trained herself to be a morning person), he's still there. She watches him, tries to memorize his face.

"Did you sleep?" he asks, voice groggy. He runs lazy fingers through her hair, and she makes an affirmative, humming noise. "What are you thinking about?"

"How many days left I have left in this term."

"And how many is that?" he asks, and gently starts to roll her onto her back, rising over her.

"Too many," she sighs. He'd slipped the flight voucher into her purse the day before, and she wasn't supposed to have seen it yet. "As much as I'd love to be able to hop a flight stateside one of these weekends, I'm going to have to focus on studying."

He bends his head to kiss her. "Well if you ever need a tutor..." he trails off and Ariadne wraps her arms around his neck.

"Oh, I'll be keeping that in mind," she readily assures him. "Now, wake me up."

He laughs. "I love it when you're pushy."


End file.
